


all children, except one, grow up

by HerbertBest



Category: 6969 - Ninja Sex Party (Song), Ninja Sex Party (Band)
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Future, Bittersweet, Crack Treated Seriously, Future Fic, Gen, Last Kiss, Peter Pan References, Time Travel, Visitations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerbertBest/pseuds/HerbertBest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the future has no balm for the inevitable.  For death.  </p><p>And Kristen – last of her name, co-savior of the existence of love on planet Earth, and a nearly forgotten relic to the outside world – is approaching hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all children, except one, grow up

**Author's Note:**

> In which I take dick jokes way too seriously. Yes, there is an Attitude City reference in there.

When one is ninety, one has a number of privileges accorded to them. You can stay up to any hour of the night. Desserts sometimes comprise entire meals. You are an adult, you have survived the majority of your life, and you can do what you wish with the time remaining. 

On the other hand, what was once a mild illness might drag out for days. Short falls require long convalescences. And the smallest cut might turn into a raging infection.

Even the future has no balm for the inevitable. For death. 

And Kristen – last of her name, co-savior of the existence of love on planet Earth, and a nearly forgotten relic to the outside world – is approaching hers.

 

*** 

 

He finds her here in a public ward, entering from the east in a shower of glitter. 

And glass. He'd managed to find his way in through a window this time.

Her eyes are closed, but she recognizes him by the way his skin smells, like spice, like a tree ablaze. That old beacon, calling her back to when she had been completely innocent, then curious, then eager, then graciously disappointed. “I know you’re here, Danny,” she says, calmly. Illness has robbed her of much, but her mind is alloyed in steel. She feels him more than sees him, but his approaching footfall makes her focus. Her eyes crack open as he leans over the bed. 

Permanently young, he is not. She sees the cracks in his mask of beauty; his nose has widened, the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly, and grey speckles decorate his hair and beard. Yet his eyes, merry and bright, are the innocent ones of a child. If he’s found her, she muses to herself, she supposes that he knows her at last.

“You…” He’s bizarrely nervous, for someone so confident, someone who had been bold enough to change the world with nothing but his charm and a gallon of lube. “...Got super old."

"I know," she says, voice brittle, soft. 

He plunges on. "Brian told me that I’d find you here. We’ve been on an intergalactic quest through time to save his favorite mask. I…just thought I’d stop in.”

She turns her head to follow his pacing. Beyond Dan nurses and doctors mill the hallway; she realizes they can't see what's plainly before them. “And I suppose they can’t pick you out?” 

He smiles. “Cloaking device.” He sounds terribly proud of himself. “It’s strapped to my junk and…”

She shakes her head. “If you’ve come to seduce me you’re a bit late.”

The answer takes him slightly aback. “I'll just come back later. You’re going to get out, aren’t you?”

“I’m ninety-five,” she says. 

His shoulders sink slightly, his grip on the bouquet he’d brought loosening slightly. She notices them now - red roses - and they fall in a puddle of crimson to his toes. “I…don’t know what to say,” he admits, after a moment of silence. “I came to take you with me for a little while, but…" Words still clog his throat. "I can’t talk to you like I talk to the ladies in my knitting circle.”

“You have a knitting circle.” It’s not a question, but he goes on happily, talking about the ‘raddest fucking crew of badass knitters’ he’s ever seen. She lets him wear himself out, having waited a long time to simply see him. The sight does not compare to the first time, but then again, what could? He'd been a god to her then, instead of what he was now - a man in torn tights, looking much older than he had that summer night.

How does she feel about him? Every year she had been haunted by the sight of him, of them. She could not leave the house without being confronted by her folly. Danny has improved the world and made hers worse; saved her life and made it harder. He is like all people, she understands that now – no God but a human being.

He’s stopped speaking, she realizes. “Um…I hope this isn’t a rude question. But you had a good life, didn’t you?” He’s noticed the room, the lack of guests and comfort.

“It had its good and bad spots,” she says. “Like any other. It was difficult after you left. I had a husband, a child, a job.”

“Where are they?”

“Dead,” she says flatly. "All of them." He almost looks guilty. She doesn’t know why. He can’t help being who he is any more than she can help being hopelessly ordinary. “Nothing’s supposed to be perfect, Danny. But isn’t that’s what you meant to teach us?”

A tiny smile crinkles the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” he admits quietly. “I meant to come back for you some day.” It’s a lie, both things are, and she knows it is but she doesn’t acknowledge it, her energy spent.

“Do me a favor, Danny,” she says softly, pointing to a potted lily plant sitting on the bedside table, “take that with you? It’s been with me for four years, I can’t go without knowing someone’s taking care of it.”

“But…” he says. 

“Please.” She reaches for his hand and feels the evidence of wrinkles beginning on the webbing between his fingers.

Danny moves toward the bedside table and picks up the plant. He considers it, as her eyes drift closed. She wonders where it will end up – a dumpster. Furthest Mars. Maybe a mundane spot between his records and his chalice. His lips caress her forehead gently with a murmured farewell.

The smallest breeze whispers across his neck as he turns to leave.

 

***

 

At home and peace, Danny stands before the white lily, drizzling it with water and humming a tuneless melody under his breath. Brian sits by steadfastly, arms crossed, staring at his odd behavior. 

“I know you thought I’d bring back a gorgeous lady with me from the future,” Danny says, admiring the blossoms, “but I made a promise to someone important I’d bring something prettier instead.” Brian glares at the back of his head. “It’s a very special plant, Brian. It means a lot to the person it belonged to. It even has a name.” He turns around. Brian’s drinking tea, staring at Danny malevolently; but the note of confusion in his face makes Danny plunge along. 

“What’s its name?” Danny smiles at the flower. His gentle fingers stroke a white petal, as if it were a woman’s breast. “Kristen.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us.” - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


End file.
